If Only
by LeDeuxGato
Summary: Will be a series of one-shots focused on the rivalmance between M!Hawke and Anders. I apparently can't write anything without it getting angsty, so prepare for said angst. Rating may change. I'll probably update it once a week. Enjoy!
1. Forces of Nature

_**Update - 12/27/2011**_

___**I did some light editing on the first chapter...had a few grammatical errors and whenever I upload a document, it obliterates my spaces. :P**_

___**Adding a third one-shot soon!**_

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><p>Anders dropped the quill in his hand, getting the strange feeling that someone was staring at him.<p>

Of course, that feeling was always there, with Justice whispering insistently in his mind, with _his_ voice. Sometimes, he couldn't tell the difference between Justice and himself, it was quite unsettling. But then again, everything about Anders would be unsettling to a perfectly _normal_ human being.

Anders scanned the room with his peripherals. He was sitting in Hawke's library, a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace, the smell of dog and parchment heavy in the air. Hawke's mabari, Dashell, slept by the fire, his foot twitching. The silence was incredibly thick, and it made Anders' nose twitch.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of the front door opening echoed through the library. Dashell woke, and ran through the cracked door into the foyer, where Hawke was undoubtedly waiting to shower him with praise and affection.

Anders took the opportunity to look all around him. Tonight, the Amell portraits hanging on the walls seemed imposing, and the shadows the shelves threw on the ground were ominous. He had spent many a night in this library, brushing aside Hawke's moans and groans so he could translate. The translations were taxing, and something Hawke didn't fully understand. He had come in terms with this. But for some reason, tonight he was annoyed. Tonight, he almost hoped Hawke would complain, so he could start a fight.

_Why do I feel like this? _Anders chewed his nail, thoroughly disturbed. Perhaps it had been too many nights spent alone, sleeping at this very desk. Though, the times when he did manage to stumble upstairs and peel off his clothing for a proper lie-in, it was met with disregard. Something in Hawke's eyes went cold during these occasions. A part of Anders wanted the warmth to return, and would do anything for it. The other, more rebellious part, perhaps the _Justice-y_ part, didn't really care. Didn't really have time to care. Anders rose from the desk, and went into the foyer. Hawke was peeling off his armor, handing the pieces to Bodahn to be cleaned. He looked every bit the warrior, blood staining his hands and face. The tattoos on his cheeks seemed flushed, and his eyes were still bright from whatever stupid battle he had gotten himself into this time. _Oh great noble Luke Hawke, defender of the innocent_. Anders scoffed. Such a funny thought, now that he truly knew the man. He was actually nothing of the sort. He was a bumbling idiot, too weak to fight for what he did believe in, too strong to admit it.

Anders clenched his eyes shut. _Is it Justice saying these things, or me? It is so painful, not knowing. _

He could smell him before he felt him, the stench of blood and sweat. Then the mage felt the familiar muscled embrace of his lover, trying to comfort him the only way he knew how. _It's so funny, how this man doesn't even know what goes through my mind every day, what turmoil I face. How I switch from mood to mood faster than a whip. How I doubt my love one second, and claim it the next. How can I be with someone this way? I don't even like myself. _

"Are you hungry, love?" The presence of such a simple question in Anders' mind was completely laughable, and he would've laughed, if he had the right frame of mind to do so. If he had felt Hawke would understand. "No. I've eaten." _I haven't, but he doesn't really need to know that._

Hawke gave him a doubtful look, reading him correctly as usual, and a small spike of annoyance grew in Anders' belly. _Is nothing a secret from this man?_ "I promise, I don't need to eat right now. I'm translating."

Hawke let out a heavy sigh at the admission, and walked away, letting his arms slip from Anders' waist. His posture was slumped and defeated, not proud and defiant as it usually was, and suddenly Anders felt a cold grip of guilt crush his gut. _I should apologize. But what for? What did I do? _"What's wrong, Luke?" Hawke turned, and shot him a look so venomous that Anders felt the gooseflesh rise on his arms. "Nothing. Enjoy your translations. I shall eat and perhaps get some sleep tonight. Alone. As usual."

The feeling Anders had had earlier returned tenfold, and he glared right back. "You have a good time with that. Some of us actually do things with our time. You know, besides hacking people up." He regretted it as soon as he said it. Luke's eyes went frosty, but there was pain in his gaze. Without answering, he strode to the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. Dashell whimpered, and Anders felt the shame start to creep up from the recesses of his mind. _That was wrong, that was so wrong. He loves me and I love him, yet we treat each other like absolute trash. Why do we do this?_

With a quiet sigh, Anders retreated back to the library. _I always do this. This is why I cannot love someone. _

_This is why I should be alone._


	2. Teal Tabris

_She's exactly as I remembered her._

Anders smiled at the familiar rogue in front of him. Everything, from the tiny points of her ears sticking out of her hair, to the smell of roses and lavender that accompanied her, called to him. It brought back memories of a time where he was a completely different person, a rake with a wicked smile and joke behind very word.

Teal Tabris reached out and embraced him, her arms folded loosely around his neck. He wasn't very tall by human standards, but the woman in front of him was small, even by elven standards, and she would never be able to completely link her arms around him.

For some unknown reason, that depressed him. As if the circle of her arms would bring some kind of comfort. More comfort than it already did.

"Oh, Anders", she whispered against his neck, making him shiver. "What have you gotten yourself into now?"

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><p>Luke didn't like her, this Anders could already tell. Every time the tiny elf was in his presence, the warrior's nostrils would flare, and he would go stonily silent. <em>It probably has something to do with her honesty. She says things he doesn't want to hear. <em>Anders smiled at the thought, even as he sat behind the warrior, kneading tension from his muscles.

Luke was grumbling something as he sat on the bed, reading a letter. He had been studiously ignoring them as they built up, but had now been forced to acknowledge them, simply to get the meddlesome things out of the way. He was still tense, even under Anders' ministrations, so the mage knew there was probably something written there that was none too great to read.

"What's that one, love?" Luke jerked at the sound of Anders' voice, then sighed, kneading his forehead. "A letter. From Bethany. She seems to have accepted her place amongst her kind." Anders stilled. _Why must he word these things that way? _**He mocks you. **_He loves me._ Still, Anders' hands fell away from Luke's shoulders and he backed away until he was leaning against the headboard.

If Luke noticed Anders' sudden quiet, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he stood and let the letter fall into the pile on his desk. He strode over to the fire, with the long liquid strokes that had once made Anders' heart skip a beat. Now, the memory only annoyed him.

Luke stared down at the flames for several moments, then flicked his eyes up to Anders' face. "That rogue…that elf. Teal. You were…involved with her, weren't you?" For a split second, Anders considered lying. But he had lied to this man before, and knew that nothing usually got past him. And lying about this may actually break the fragile line they had been toeing for years.

He looked down at his hands. Long scarred fingers met his gaze, freckles dotting the right hand, surrounding the oddly shaped birthmark directly underneath his thumb. He swallowed, then finally met the warrior's eyes. "I loved her, long ago. But she held a candle for someone…his name was Zevran. An Antivan assassin. She spoke of him…a lot. I was a different person back then, and we did go for a tumble a few times. But I made more out of the situation than she had to offer."

Luke's eyes narrowed. "And her lover…he knew this?" Anders nodded. "They had an arrangement…they swore nothing on each other. I'm not sure if that's changed." "And if it hasn't?" Anders blinked. _Why is he asking me this? Is he trying to pour salt on wounds long healed? _"If it hasn't…I am yours. You know this." Luke growled, an animalistic sound that vibrated his entire body. "Damn right you are. And don't forget it, mage."

**We belong to no one.**

_Hush._

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><p>Teal's laugh sang through the Hanged Man like a drink of fresh water. Her eyes were alert and bright, and she clutched a mug of ale as she listened to Varric, both enraptured and amused.<p>

Anders watched her from Luke's side, hardly believing she was there. It had been four days since they had unceremoniously collided with her and Oghren in the Deep Roads, and it was like everything had fallen back into the place. Just for the moment. He could still remember her dimpled smile when he had ran to her. _"I'm meeting Zev here in a few weeks, so I might as well hang around."_

He was pulled from his thoughts by a strong hand on his thigh, clenching. Luke was glaring at him, the usual scowl present on his face. "Put your jaw back on, Anders. You couldn't be more obvious if you tried." Anders blushed to the roots of his hair, and tried to ignore the steady look he was getting from his lover. "Go ahead then", Luke hissed at him, through clenched teeth. "If she's what you really want, go bed the taken elf. Just don't come crying back to me when she throws you to the wolves." Anders said nothing, and for a moment, the grip on his thigh became almost too painful to bear. Then Luke's hand was gone, and he was off to the bar to refill his drink, with the tight controlled body of a seething man.

When he looked back at his companions, he met the cornflower blue gaze of his former comrade. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes flicked between him and Luke with a concerned expression. He waved her off, smiling, and took a sip of his own drink…water. _She worries for me. _**She does not love you.**

Anders' grip on his mug tightened, remembering the days where Justice was not a part of him. He had been living through the body of a dead Grey Warden back then…back when he thought he knew himself.

_I wish she knew. Maybe I'll tell her…or perhaps it's better if she doesn't view me as the monster I've become._

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><p>"What is going on, Anders?"<p>

Anders looked down at the woman standing next to him. They stood on a dock, with only the smell of salt and the sound of lapping water to keep them company. When he had broken away from the group to be on his own, he had hardly expected anyone to follow him this far. But there she was, lit up by moonlight, but her eyes mere shadows in her face. The sight was almost spectral.

"Nothing…I am simply trying to duck Templar swords and win my right to shoot lightning at fools. The usual." He tried a smile, but he knew it had to look weak and wavering. She gently took his hand, shaking her head. "No, Anders. There's more. You look so haunted…so gaunt. You rarely speak, and when you do, it's all forced humor and…well, that man you cavort with…he seems so imposing, so…so…_haughty._ It's not the kind of person I imagined you with."

He felt his throat tighten. Even if he had wanted to answer her, he wouldn't have been able to force the words out. It had been far too long since someone had fussed over him, and he tried not to let the feeling make him lightheaded.

She squeezed his hand, continuing. "I see the way he looks at you…like he owns you. Like you're a piece of furniture or…or a dog. A possession, not someone he loves or cares for. It isn't right, Anders. You deserve so much better than that." The mage gently pulled his hand from her grip. "With all due respect, Teal…I don't think you quite understand."

She sighed, looking out over the water. "Maybe not. But I do know an unhealthy thing when I see it. This relationship will surely kill you in the end. Hell, with the way you look now, a good gust of wind could probably kill you." She shot him a disapproving look. "When's the last time you've eaten? Don't you live in the Hawke Estate? Surely they have food to eat."

Anders smiled at the comfort of it all. She was nagging. He was used to nagging….it had been her favorite thing to do back in Amaranthine. "I appreciate the thought, Teal. But you don't need to fret over me."

A few moments passed, with just the sound of the water filling the silence. A fish broke the surface of the ocean, gasping in air it couldn't breathe, before landing back in the water with a pop.

Suddenly, she spoke, her voice choked and raspy. "Anders…if I don't fret over you…who will?"

He had no answer. But that was answer enough.


	3. Foolishness

**Soooo. This one is way longer than what I usually write, but for some reason it would not get out of my head.**

**Well...enjoy!**

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><p>Anders had always been an early riser.<p>

He was used to getting up before the sun rose. Sometimes, he would sit in Luke's armchair, watching him sleep. He looked innocent when he slept…everyone did. It reminded him of when he met the warrior…how loose-limbed and cheerful he would be in Anders' presence. It was like neither of them had to eat or drink, they could be sustained on love alone.

But today, when he finally got up, rubbing crust from his eyes and stretching aching limbs, it was to an empty bed. Luke's side of the bed was neatly made, only slightly rumpled by Anders' movements. His housecoat was tossed carelessly on the floor, and there was absolutely no sign of the warrior or his faithful hound companion that followed him everywhere.

Completely wakened by this new development, Anders got up and tossed a loose linen shirt over his bare chest. Quickly, he hurried down the steps to the Estate, still finding no sign of life. Both Bodahn and Orana were missing.

Blinking, he became aware of a thick meaty smell hanging in the air. _Breakfast._ This, too, was odd. Usually, he woke up far before breakfast was made, and left while it was being cooked. Only Luke stayed to eat…the man's appetite was astounding.

When he reached the dining room, he discovered that the table was completely set for two. Wine, fruit, and bread were all laid out in their respective places. Though the whole thing was nice to look at, it made Anders nervous. He had grown used to the routine he had fallen into, upon moving into the Estate. It was far from perfect, but it was _comfortable_, and that was the one of the only things Anders sought tirelessly. _Comfort._

Suddenly, Luke burst out of the kitchen door, clad only in loose leggings. He was barefoot, and his hair looked freshly washed, hanging in crimson strands around his forehead. When he looked up and saw Anders, he _smiled._ The mage had not seen a smile on Luke's face in absolute ages, since right after Bethany was taken to the Circle.

But odder still were the plates of food balanced in Luke's hands. Orana always served the food. She always cooked it, too, and he could tell from the charred look of the bacon that this was not cooked by Orana.

"Good morning, darling. I made us breakfast." He looked positively radiant, dropping the plates on the table, and pulling a chair out for Anders to sit on. Hesitantly, Anders walked over to the seat, only to be snatched by Luke in a tight embrace. The younger man rained kisses on Anders' face until the mage couldn't help it anymore…he started to laugh. Genuinely laugh. It was mostly at the pure ridiculousness of it all (just last night they had been at each other's throats, and now he was literally being kissed silly), but mostly at the memory of when this was a daily occurrence, these ridiculous kissing fits. Luke had made a point, on multiple occasions, to attack him like this. He had always said that he was the luckiest man in Thedas, that people should envy him because of the company he kept. That he didn't _deserve _Anders.

Luke let go of the mage, a brilliant smile still lighting his face. He gently pushed Anders into the chair, then took the seat across from him, crossing his legs. _Only Luke…only this man could be roughly 6 and a half feet tall and manage to look dignified when he crosses his legs like a prissy female. _The warrior was still smiling, only now he was staring at Anders with his head cocked slightly to the side. Slowly, as the moments passed and they stared at each other, the smile melted off his face, and turned into a downright scowl when he looked down at his plate.

"I could certainly use some lessons on cooking, yes?" Anders chuckled, and put a spoonful of runny eggs in his mouth. Squinting his eyes, he slowly swallowed, trying to ignore his body's light dry heaving. "It's delicious, love. Really, you should cook more often." With these words, he bit into a piece of bacon with enthusiasm and winced when he felt his tooth chip slightly.

Luke shot him one of his "you are not fooling me, so why are you trying" looks. "You don't have to eat it, sweetheart. I appreciate the sentiment."

Finally, Anders' curiosity got the best of him. He dropped his spoon on his plate and wiped his mouth, mentally preparing for the question he was about to ask. "Why are you in such a good mood today, love? Making sure you got up before me to make me breakfast? Kisses? Smiles? Something must be going fantastically for you."

Luke looked down at his plate, idly pushing the bacon around with his fork. "First of all, I always get up before you. The dog needs to be taken out in the early morning, and he likes to pretend he doesn't know how to open the door, so I have to get up. I just usually go back to bed before you wake…today I didn't. Second of all, this is hardly breakfast. More like egg soup and some long thin rocks on a plate. _Hush_, Anders, I know it's disgusting no matter what you say. And third of all…well…I just wanted to treat you for once. Is that so hard to believe?"

The mage shook his head. "I suppose not…I guess I'm just not used to this…this affection. You seem so cold lately, love." Luke snorted. "More like the past four years. Anders…" He trailed off, never finishing the sentence. And when Anders didn't press him to, afraid of what he might hear, Luke promptly stood. "I gave Orana and Bodahn the day off, but just leave the plates here. I'll clean up when we get back." "We?" "Yes, we. We're going shopping. It's a lovely day outside, the market is open in an hour or so, and I have a package to pick up from a merchant in lower Hightown." He clapped his palms together cheerily. "We shall have breakfast at a place with a capable cook, too, of course. But first, you have to bathe, darling. You smell like sewage and sweat. And your hair's gotten rather oily. Plus, you look fantastic with stubble, but your beard grows in white-blonde and patchy. Let's go."

Dumbfounded, Anders followed him into the washroom.

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><p>The bath was absolutely lovely, the water heated to the perfect temperature. Luke crouched behind Anders, scrubbing soap into his hair, massaging his scalp with his fingernails. Anders had tried to bathe himself while the warrior tended to his hair, but the feeling had been so exquisite that he was incredibly distracted. Finally, he just let his head fall back, allowing Luke to bathe his whole body, relaxing in the warmth.<p>

He jumped when he felt soft lips and stubble on his neck, then stilled completely. _How long has it been? A month? A month and a half? _And their last sexual encounter hadn't gone quite as planned. It had begun well enough, but had ended in an argument, resulting in Anders sleeping at the clinic for the first time in 3 years.

The mage felt Luke's hand trail up his chest and wind in his hair. _I should stop him. I really should. This could go badly._ But he didn't. His traitorous body ignored common sense and leaned into the kisses trailing up his jaw. Luke pulled away, leaving a cold spot on Anders' back that was slightly uncomfortable, but then reappeared moments later with a light fluffy towel held in his hands. He grinned, and left it on the edge of the basin, before walking lightly out of the room. Quickly, Anders scrambled out of the tub and dried himself off. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went straight to the bedroom, tripping over his own feet in his haste. _What am I, a teenage boy? Control yourself. _Another thought that held both bits of himself and Justice.

The door to the bedroom was closed, and when he slipped inside, he closed it again behind him. Luke lounged on the armchair, his fingers folded on his stomach. When he looked up from the floor, there were _tears_ on his cheeks. Anders' eyes widened, and he was momentarily paralyzed. _What do I do? Oh, Maker…what do I do? _

He swallowed nervously. "Is…there anything I can do, love?" Luke let out a rattled, shaky breath and blinked at Anders, his eyes shiny. "Just…touch me. Please."

With a soft sigh, Anders went to him.

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><p>The market was bustling…alive. Dwarves, humans, and elves scurried, bumping into each other, whispering polite apologies. Men called to their comrades over the heads of shoppers, merchants bellowed their wares to people with enough coin to bother. A few children darted in between the legs of adults, usually followed by red-faced nursemaids as they shot apology after apology to scandalized nobles.<p>

Luke stood on the steps over the market, smiling. There was no trace of the teary-eyed man he had been a few hours prior. He looked every bit the Champion, wearing a tight leather jerkin, and those leggings, tucked into slim black boots. His ever-present greatsword hung between his shoulder blades heavily, and a dagger winked at his wrist. Anders felt shabby in comparison, in his patched ragged blue coat and equally ragged boots, his hair simply tossed back into it's usual tie, while Luke's was slicked back and shiny, exposing a tiny silver piercing in one ear and amplifying the blue wing-like tattoos on his cheeks.

"I love this market, it's bloody brilliant. Everything you'd ever need, in one place." When Anders didn't answer (mostly because he was afraid of pushing Luke into a bad mood by disagreeing), he happily skipped down the steps and went to the first merchant on the left, a balding man selling robes and magic wares.

"Jean Luc! A fine pleasure to see you, my good man!" Jean shot a beaming smile at Luke. "And a pleasure to see you, warrior. Have you come to collect your parcel?" Luke just nodded, and pulled out his wallet. Jean reached under his stall and withdrew a box roughly half Luke's height. The warrior nodded approvingly. "How much do I owe you?" Jean patted the box fondly. "Oh, I'd say about 20 sovereigns." Anders choked. _Twenty sovereigns? What in Thedas is Luke buying that would cost 20 bloody sovereigns?_

But Luke just chuckled as he pressed the coins into Jean's eager palm. "Highway robbery, serah. Complete robbery. But, because it's definitely worth it, I'll suck it up and hand it over." Jean smiled and pushed the box into Luke's waiting arms.

Anders waited until they had deposited the box in the Estate foyer, before he began the questioning. "I don't understand…what exactly would you need that badly, to where you would pay 20 sovereigns for it?" Luke glanced at him, smirking. "You shall see, my lovely mage. You shall see." Anders narrowed his eyes at him, but before he could say anything, a squeal made them both spin around.

Merrill was running at Luke full-speed, laughing joyously. Neither of them had the time to even wonder why, before she was on him, hugging him like her life depended on it. "Hawke! I am so glad to see you! I got lost trying to find your Estate, so I gave up and was heading home…but, oh dear, I seemed to have just wound my way further into Hightown."

Luke unclasped her death grip on his neck. "Merrill, my Estate is right here." She followed his pointing finger, then blinked at the building towering over them. "Oh…well, I guess I'm not half as lost as I thought I was. Good to know." She turned and beamed up at him. "As I was saying, I need to talk to you. Privately. But it seems as if Anders didn't go to his clinic today." When she smiled at him, there was no malice in it, and Anders relaxed.

Luke took Anders' hand, making the mage quiver a bit. _How long since he's held my hand at all…? Has to have been a year, at least._ "We're having a personal day, today, Merrill. Spread the word, will you?" She nodded, still beaming. "Oh, I will, Hawke. Certainly. I suppose I can talk to you, tomorrow, yes? You two enjoy your personal day." She crushed Luke in another embrace, then literally _skipped_ away, drawing curious looks from the nobles in the courtyard.

Luke chuckled quietly. "She really is something, isn't she?" Before Anders could answer, Luke spun on him, nearly knocking him over. "Time for breakfast! I'm absolutely starving." And with that, he was off, dragging Anders behind him.

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><p>It was several hours later when they returned to Estate. They were both laden with bags upon bags of things they didn't really need…things Luke had bought anyway. Mostly paintings, but some of it was jewelry and finery. He had bought Isabela a new pair of daggers, and Merrill a tiny statue of a halla that a former Dalish was selling in the market.<p>

They dropped their things by the fire, and Anders rubbed his eyes tiredly. His body still held a pleasant ache from that morning's activities, and though his pockets were a bit lighter, his belly was full and _Maker_, Luke was pressed against his back, wrapping his arms around the mage's waist. He sighed, and settled against the other man's body.

They stayed like that for a long time, neither of them saying anything. Luke's chin rested on Anders' shoulder, his hands splayed out over his belly. He was humming a completely tuneless melody, gently swaying them. Anders, on the other hand, remained perfectly still. Taking in his lover's familiar smell and feel, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

Then, he felt the warmth of Luke's body leave him, and he turned to see what the warrior was doing. Luke was shoving the large box in the foyer into the living room, grunting with effort. "Damn carpets", he hissed, as he lost his balance and landed directly on his face. Anders couldn't help but giggle, drawing a nasty glare from the warrior as he struggled to his feet. "Hush, mage. You can barely lift a glass of water, let alone this box." Anders flinched at the familiar sharp tone…a note he hadn't heard all day. He had let his guard down, temporarily, and as he thought…Luke had switched moods.

But no, that apparently wasn't the case, because Luke was smiling again. _It had been a joke, Anders. A joke. Must you be so paranoid?_ Luke sat on the floor, legs crossed, and watched Anders expectantly. The mage shifted feet nervously. "Um…love?" Luke waved a hand towards the box. "Go on, open it." Anders blinked, then ran his hand over the box's smooth top. "Is this…for me?" The warrior nodded, his eyes softening.

Anders reached for the box, his fingers numb. Slowly, he slid apart the various flaps until he was looking at the contents of the box.

A robe lay folded amongst piles of shredded paper. It was deep green and black in color, shaped almost exactly like the one Anders wore now. Next to it, lay a set of feathered pauldrons, decorated with black feathers and obviously brand new, pair of boots designed to look, again, like the ones Anders wore…only newer, and black with gold clasps framed in green, and finally, what looked curiously like a smooth compact stick, roughly the length of Anders' forearm, but with a crystal set in the top. The crystal was carved in the shape of a skull, with a gaping mouth and broken teeth.

Anders could feel his throat close as tears threatened to escape his eyes. His vision went momentarily blurry, and when he leaned down to pick up the robe, a few tears slid down his nose. He flinched when Luke gently touched his arm. "Do you like it?", the warrior asked, sounding brittle and…vulnerable. Two things he would never want to be portrayed as. "I could take it back if it doesn't fit…but I was pretty specific with the tailor…" Anders ran his fingers over the fabric, feeling his palms slide smoothly over the hide. Luke was still speaking, babbling really, as he twisted his fingers together. "I just wanted to show you, you know, because I never do. I love you, Anders…I'd do anything for you, and I feel like you'll forget that. Um…that robe can be enchanted, too, but it adds to your magic abilities. It ups your mana…I figured it would be useful-" "Love, please." Anders smiled at him, still holding the robe loosely in his hands. "Lucius, this is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I only regret that I can't give you anything in return."

Luke blinked, then wrapped his arms around Anders' waist again, leaning his head against the mage's. "You can. You do. You give me plenty. When I call you names…when I hurt you, you stay. You love me when I try to break you down. You take my abuse, Anders. That's your gift to me."

Anders shook his head. "It's not-" "Don't. Just…don't. We both know what I do, what I say. Let's not pretend it doesn't happen. Tonight, let's just accept it." Anders lowered his head, unsure of what to say. "Well…I do have a question for you." "What's that, darling?" "What is this?" Luke lifted his head and looked to where Anders was pointing, the rod thing nestled in the box. "Oh…that's a staff." Anders laughed. "That little thing?"

Luke reached down and picked the rod up. "Take it, and you'll see what I'm talking about. I had this specially ordered, this is where the bulk of my money went to. But I had already paid for this when I picked the package up, so you wouldn't know how much it cost." He winked, then shoved the rod into Anders' hand.

At the mage's touch, the thing began to vibrate, emitting a high pitched whirring noise. With a flash of light, it grew, becoming a long metal staff. The handle vibrated with runes, all glowing blue. The light pulsed, shooting up to the crystal skull, lighting its sockets. On the other end of the staff, a brilliant runed blade was set, and when Anders tested the edge, it was incredibly sharp, cutting his fingertip at the lightest touch. He healed himself almost subconsciously, balancing the staff in his hand.

"Maker, Luke…this is beautiful." Luke tapped the edge of the staff, making it spark. "The glowy bits? Lyrium. And it recedes into that rod thing when you want it to, that way it's easy to hide." Anders, amazed at the thoughtfulness, ran his fingers over the handle until he felt the lyrium practically sing in his veins.

"I…I don't even know what to say. This surely cost you half a fortune." Luke said nothing, just bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly. Anders leaned forward and fell into the warrior's embrace. They stayed like that for quite some time, the staff wedged between them uncomfortably. But Anders didn't want to move…he felt like this affection was a kind of magic that would dissipate if he broke the spell.

It was Luke that finally pulled away, looking down at him with the kind of love in his eyes that Anders had not seen in a long time. He took a few steps back, drew in a huge breath, and clasped his hands behind his back. "So…are you going to try the new robe on, or am I going to have to find other, more _creative_ ways to get you out of that shabby thing you're wearing?" _Flirting? Is he…flirting? _

Anders laughed, ignoring his thoughts, and scooped all of the new clothing into his arms. Ten minutes later, in the washroom, he looked at himself in the mirror and blinked. He looked like an utterly different person…the robe clung to him perfectly, and the boots were lined with some kind of soft pliant fur that would no doubt keep his feet warm when the snow came. The collar rose high, cupping his jaw, and elongating his neck. His eyes were bright and shiny with happiness, and his cheeks were flushed, red as apples. All of this, plus the glowing staff he held tightly in his hand…he just looked so _different._

When he stepped out of the washroom, Luke's eyes immediately darkened. "I don't even…there are no words for how exquisite you look in that. I trust it fits?" Anders nodded, smoothing the creases on his waist with his fingers. "Like a glove. Luke, I really appreciate this. More than I can say." Luke nodded, his eyes raking over Anders' entire figure. "You don't have to say anything, Anders. You can show me. And as lovely as that robe is, it has to come off. The boots can stay, though." Anders burst into laughter, drawing a smirk from the warrior. For the first time in months, he felt a strong surge of affection for this man. He strode across the room and grabbed Luke's hand, pulling him to the bed. "No problem, I'm a hands-on kind of person, anyways."

**He is a coward.**

_Please don't ruin this for me._

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><p>The next morning, Anders did not rise before the sun as he usually did.<p>

He lay in the bed, letting the warmth of the sunrise tickle his face and brighten his eyelashes. His whole back and stomach ached, and he could feel the stickiness of last night clinging to his skin, but he didn't dare move.

Luke had one leg thrown over his waist, and his face buried in the mage's hair. He was _snoring_, and it made Anders smile. In the years since they had shared a bed, he had never heard the man snore, and he liked to think it was caused by contentment. The whole bed…no, the whole room stunk of sweat and sex, and soon, not even Luke's snoring could keep the mage in bed.

He slid out from under Luke's arm, and went to fetch himself some tea. After making a cup, he sat by the fire, still only wearing what the Maker gave him, watching Luke sleep quietly. While Anders had been in the kitchen, the warrior had flipped to his other side, and was now mumbling incoherently. Smiling, Anders watched him until his tea was finished, then bathed and changed into his new coat…marveling at it once again. As he got ready to depart, he leaned forward and placed a small kiss on Luke's cheek. The feeling was foreign to him, the stubble under his lips, the intoxicating smell of his hair so close. He had never kissed Luke this chastely before, it was so soft that the man didn't even twitch an eyelid.

And as he walked out of the door, for the first time in a long time, Anders was smiling.

**You are a fool.**

_I'm happy. So, yes, I suppose I am a fool._


	4. Ser Soft Paws

**This is a bit fluffier than my usual angst and sad-fests. But I figured I should show you guys the soft adorable side of Hawke, since my Hawke's a total douchebag the last half of the rivalmance. I have no idea why I like it that way, maybe I just have a thing for making stuff as angsty as possible.**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

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><p>"So, this is what it's come to."<p>

Luke stood in a defensive pose, his feet thrown apart. He glared at Anders, that look the mage knew so well scrawled across his features. The battle had begun.

However, Anders knew his moves in this game well. It had taken him years, but he had figured out exactly what he had to do to win. He let out a long defeated sigh, and as Luke's face began to relax, he whipped out his secret weapon…the pout.

Luke stumbled as if Anders had slapped him.

"Darling…you know I love you more than anything in Thedas, right? That I would do absolutely anything for you?"

Luke blinked. Anders took that as a yes.

"You and I, we've been through a lot. I don't even complain when I wake up and Dash is nosing my bits, or when I put on my coat and it smells like hideously rank dog. And I only smile when I have to brush tiny brown hairs off of everything I own. Why? Because you mean so much to me."

Luke's face softened. "I know-" Anders cut him off, determined to have the upper hand.

"Remember that one time I was eating breakfast, and got up to put my coat on? Dash ate my entire meal, then spent the whole day breaking wind directly in my vicinity. I said nothing, even when I found piss in my boot later that night. Because you love him, so I put up with him."

Luke narrowed his eyes at Dash, who quietly receded into a corner. "I had no idea about the piss in your boots, love, but that hardly-"

"So, in short, I really think I deserve this. And I promise to make it up to you. In both dirty and completely innocent ways."

Luke swallowed, then scratched the stubble on his neck. The soft _scritch scritch _noise was the only sound in the room. Finally, he let his hand fall to his side and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But when I inevitably ravish you tonight, you're keeping the boots on."

Anders threw back his head and laughed. "I think I can manage that. Now run off, Isabela still needs to speak with you." Luke groaned, and started towards the door. Suddenly, he stopped, and almost as an afterthought, crossed the room to place a soft kiss on Anders' lips. "I'll see you tonight, don't disappear on me." Anders smiled against the warrior's mouth. "I wouldn't dream of it."

Luke grinned, then sauntered out of the room, fully convinced he had won in the end.

Anders dropped to a kneeling position and spilled the little bundle of fur onto the floor. The orange tabby kitten gained his footing, then butted his head against Anders' knee, purring. The sound was incredibly soothing to the mage, and he found himself scooping him right back up into his arms. "Welcome home, Ser Soft Paws." Not his best, but it would have to do.

**That is ridiculous.**

_You're ridiculous._

Feeling wonderfully childish, and altogether victorious, Anders carried his new charge into the bedroom, where they would wait until Luke got home.


	5. Worrisome

**This is an old one-shot I stumbled on in my flashdrive. **

**It actually has some tame-ish smutty bits in it, so yeah...fair warning.**

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><p>The sunlight falling through the window is delightful. It lights up the highlights in Hawke's hair, turning the material of the pillow under his head a soft crimson color. The shadows thrown on his cheekbones make him look more dignified, even as he drools in his sleep. An eyebrow twitches, and suddenly, Hawke is looking at me. A moment of confusion, then recognition. A smile creases his face, a sparkle in slate grey eyes. I note the starbursts of blue in them with a strong surge of affection.<p>

He reaches over and wraps one arm loosely around my hip. He's still sleepy, his hair a complete mess. He lifts his head to push his pillow into a more comfortable position, and I laugh as he realizes there's drool there and blushes a shade of red deeper than his hair. Quickly, he flips the pillow, and pretends like it isn't there. For all his bandit-slaying and bragging, he's still a young man. Barely twenty-two, going on fifty. Still able to get embarrassed over a bit of saliva, yet capable of cutting down a Qunari twice his size.

I reach up and brush my fingers against his face, memorizing the feel of his stubble against my fingertips. I let my fingers trail up to his eyes, and follow the line of his socket, feeling the eyelashes. My hand finally stops on the bridge of his nose. He turns his head and kisses my palm, and a spike of heat shoots through my body. He's saying something, but I can't even hear him. I don't want to, it would break the spell for him to speak.

Instead of responding, I bury my face in his shoulder and inhale deeply. There's the smell of sweat there, of male musk and a bit of blood. I wonder vaguely if I bit him last night, and conclude that it's entirely possible. I let my hand trail down his body, taking in every scar, hair, and ridge of muscle. He's completely relaxed and pliant under my touch. _He's too trusting._ Was that me or Justice? I don't know…and at this moment, I don't care. Sometimes, I can tell the difference. Sometimes, I can't. But all I know right now is this man spread out beside me, leaving himself completely vulnerable to my hands.

I'm whispering things I'm not comprehending, as my hand strays down to sensitive territory. He inhales sharply as I take him in my hand, rubbing my thumb softly over the tip. I don't want him, not now, but I need to know that he's real, that he can feel pain and pleasure and most of all, that he's not going to vanish when I open my eyes.

He mutters a curse and reaches for me, but I bat his hands away. That's not what I want. He doesn't understand…he probably never will.

I touch my tongue lightly against his neck, right where it meets his shoulder, and he jerks against me. I let my teeth scrape the same spot, my hand milking the whimpers from him, as he shakes in my grasp. I've never felt more powerful, more alive than I do in this moment, and it's that new found energy that motivates me to sink my teeth into his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood.

The groan that rips from his throat is animalistic, and at first I think I've gone too far. But he buries his face in my shoulder and begins to thrust insistently into my hand. He doesn't touch me, I think he finally understands not to. But suddenly I want him to. I need to feel his insistence, I need to know he wants me and not just anyone.

Firmly, I grab his chin and yank his head up. His eyes meet mine, and I can see that his pupils are dilated with lust, his lips slightly open as he gasps. It's an absolutely beautiful sight. I make him look at me, even as I stroke him to climax, and even as he shudders with the aftershocks, he doesn't look away.

I make no move to go clean myself up, and he makes no move to do much of anything. We're trapped there, in whatever world we've managed to conjure in this room, in this damned city. He takes me by the back of my head, and draws me in for a kiss. It's soft, but not entirely chaste. He's worrying my bottom lip between his teeth, slightly tearing the skin there. I push him away, then pull him to me in a tight embrace, hoping he can feel my desperation and love with every moment that passes by.

"I love you, Haw…Luke. I love you, Luke."

_Luke_ tightens his arms around me. "I love you too. I always have."

I watch as he falls back into a blissful sleep, dully noting that he'll most likely have to flip his pillow again. _This is what I need. I need comfort. I need love. I need support and laughter and kisses and familiarity. _

_I need him. I just don't understand why it has to hurt so much._


End file.
